


"Alright?"

by bev_crusher1971



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, bbc - Fandom
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No, he was not alright, damnit! He probably never would be again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Alright?"

"Are you alright?"

How often had he heard such a question come from the mouth of his best friend?

The first time after he'd killed that mad cabbie.

Another time, with a bomb-vest strapped to his torso, Sherlock's fingers quickly removing it, throwing it away.

Then weeks, months later, the same question again, this time breathed against his lips. "Are you alright, John? Alright with this?"

He nodded.

What else could he do with the attention of this incredible man so completely focused on him? Then those lips had touched his, and all rational thinking simply left the building.

At the funeral, after two years of living with the world's only Consulting Detective, he heard Lestrade ask him, "Are you alright?" and he had trembled.

Shocked to the core.

Still unable to form a coherent thought.

No!

No, he was not alright, damnit!

He probably never would be again.

Seeing Sherlock Holmes, months later, on his very own doorstep, had almost caused him to faint. John Watson, survivor of Afghanistan, had been on the edge of breaking down when he gazed up into the silvery eyes of his best friend; Sherlock managed to catch him before his knees could hit the floor, and for a moment John thought he was dreaming.

Again.

Some heavy punches to Sherlock's face, a lot of shouting, and some considerable tears later, they were sitting next to each other on the sofa, John curled up against Sherlock, holding him so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Sherlock tried to explain everything but John wasn't listening to the words, only to the voice. That voice he had missed so much for all those long and lonely month.

It was the next morning when he felt Sherlock's hands move upon him, his lips on his skin, his body next to his. Only then was he was able to answer the question.

"Are you alright, John?"

He pulled Sherlock even closer, breathed in his unique scent and felt at peace at last.

Finally answering, "I am. Now."

End


End file.
